Page 1 of Mountain Man’s Holiday Home (Wildwood Valley Christmas #1)

LAINEY

Christmas trees fight back. I’d learned that lesson years ago.

One minute, I was shoving a six-foot Fraser fir into a net, and the next, the branches were smacking me in the face like I’d insulted their mother.

Not exactly how I pictured spending my Saturday. But at our family tree lot, you didn’t get to pick your battles—you just got pine needles down your shirt and scratches on your arms.

Luca, my brother, was busy charming another customer, which left me solo in the ring with today’s opponent. The customer who owned the tree wasn’t helping either—too busy gossiping with her friend across the lot. Typical.

And then, right on cue, came a voice behind me. Low. Male. Amused.

“There’s a machine for that, you know.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Great. Some know-it-all was here to mansplain Christmas tree netting to me. No doubt it was one of the guys who’d moved here in recent years. Little did he know I’d worked this lot every year since I was twelve.

Hoping he’d go away, I ignored him and continued battling branches. I’d definitely have a couple of scratches tomorrow. Hazard of the trade. I needed to be careful, though. Too many scratches freaked out the customers.

He was still back there. Ugh. I’d never enjoyed having someone watch over my shoulder while I worked. Maybe that was why, just as I got the netting around the bottom grouping of branches all the way around, something shoved it downward again and the whole thing fell apart.

I made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a roar. It was low-pitched and drawn-out. Then I pressed one netting-filled fist to my forehead and did my best to practice the calming breaths I’d learned in yoga class.

Yeah, that didn’t help.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The stranger had moved around the tree. I caught a flash of black coat before he disappeared behind the branches.

“Let’s do this,” he called.

Everything in me wanted to turn down his help. I could do this all on my own. But within seconds, I was reminded that netting a tree was one of those unwieldy jobs where four hands were better than two.

Halfway up, the tree narrowed enough that I got my first glimpse of my helper. One clenched jawline and one steely gray eye. It was enough to tell me this wasn’t just any mountain man.

This guy was freakin’ hot as hell.

“I’ll take it from here,” he said.

I let him because I couldn’t reach the top of the tree. It had been an issue since I was twelve, helping my parents out here on this Christmas tree lot. It was still an issue today since I was only five-foot-five, and our most popular trees were in the six- to seven-foot range.

“Do you have something to tie this off with?” he asked.

I was already moving around the tree, twist ties ready. I’d planned to pass them over, but I stopped abruptly when I got my first really good look at the man who’d been helping me.

Holy crap on a cracker. This guy was beyond hot. He could be in one of those charity calendars where gorgeous guys posed shirtless and the proceeds went to worthy causes.

His full focus was on the tree. Had he even seen me? Of course, he had. He’d been behind me to start with.

“Could you hold up this side?” he asked.

The words were said nicely, but I detected a tinge of strain in his voice. He was trying to hold everything together while also reaching for a tie.

I needed to help him. I wanted to help him. But I couldn’t stop staring.

I forced myself to move, stepping closer to grab the side of the netting he was indicating. Our fingers brushed as I took hold of the mesh, and I felt a little jolt of electricity shoot up my arm.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice rougher now, strained from holding the tree. “Just hold it steady while I—”

That’s when our eyes met for the first time. My fingers fumbled as my entire body began a subtle tremble.

“Oh, hell,” I breathed, lunging forward to catch the netting before it could slip completely off the tree.

My body pressed against his as we both scrambled to save our work. For a moment, we were tangled together, his arms around me, mine around him, the tree between us but our faces inches apart.

His eyes were an even more startling gray up close, framed by dark lashes that had no business being that long on a man. There was a scar running through his left eyebrow, and I had the strangest urge to trace it with my fingertip.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just…wasn’t expecting…”

“What?” I whispered back, acutely aware that we were still pressed together, still holding onto the netting, still staring at each other like we’d forgotten how to breathe.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You.”

The moment stretched between us, thick with something I couldn’t name. Then a gust of wind rattled through the lot, and we both seemed to remember what we were supposed to be doing.

“Right,” I said, stepping back so quickly I nearly tripped over my own feet. “The tree.”

“The tree,” he agreed, though he was still looking at me instead of it.

I cleared my throat and focused on the netting, willing my heart to stop hammering against my ribs. “So, um, ready to tie this?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head as if clearing it, then reached for the twist ties I was holding. This time, he was careful not to touch me, but I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin anyway. “Just need to get a couple around the base here…”

We worked in silence for a few minutes, getting the tree properly secured. He was good at this—efficient, practiced, like he’d done manual labor before. His hands were calloused, I noticed, and there was a tattoo peeking out from under his coat sleeve. Military, maybe?

“There,” he said, stepping back to admire our handiwork. “Should hold.”

“Thanks.” I brushed pine needles off my jacket, suddenly feeling awkward now that we weren’t focused on a task. “I’m Lainey, by the way. Lainey Rossi.”

“Hendrix.” He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, I took it. His grip was firm and warm, and it sent that same little shock through me. “Hendrix Lowe.”

“Nice to meet you, Hendrix Lowe.” I was proud of how normal my voice sounded. “So, you’re new to town?”

He laughed, a low rumble that did things to my insides. “I am, actually. First time in Wildwood Valley, though your brother’s told me plenty about this place over the years.”

“You know Luca?” I studied his face, trying to understand the connection.

“We served together.” He grinned, and I had to grip the tree stand to keep from swooning. “He was always going on about this little mountain town he grew up in. Made it sound like paradise.”

My eyes widened. “You’re one of Luca’s military buddies?”

“Guilty as charged. We’ve stayed close since we got out.” His expression softened. “Most of the guys settled here after the service—bought up some cabins on Reindeer Lane. I’m just passing through on my way to the next job and crashing with one of them for a couple of days.”

“That sounds convenient.”

“Yeah, it is.” He looked around the lot, taking in the neat rows of trees, the little shed where Luca kept the register, the strands of lights we’d hung yesterday. “God, this place is exactly like Luca described it. Picture perfect.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I miss it. I come home every year for a couple of weeks to help out.”

“Home from where?”

“Charleston. I work for a marketing firm there.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious. “Not exactly exciting, but it pays the bills.”

“Marketing, huh?” He leaned against the tree we’d just netted, crossing his arms. The position made his coat pull tight across his chest, and I tried not to stare. “What kind of stuff do you market?”

“Mostly outdoor gear. Hiking boots, camping equipment, that sort of thing.” I found myself relaxing as we talked. There was something easy about him, despite the way he made my pulse race. “What about you? What do you do when you’re not rescuing damsels in distress from Christmas trees?”

“Damsel in distress?” He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Pretty sure you had that tree handled. I was just…moral support.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” I laughed. “Moral support that nearly let the whole thing fall apart when you got distracted?”

A flush crept up his neck. “Yeah, about that…sorry. I wasn’t expecting Luca’s little sister to be so…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“So what?”

“Grown up,” he finished, his voice rough again.

The air between us seemed to shimmer with tension. I was acutely aware of how close we were standing, of the way his eyes kept dropping to my lips, of the fact that we were essentially alone in this corner of the lot.

“Lainey,” Luca’s voice called from across the lot, shattering the moment. “You okay over there? Thought I heard you wrestling with something.”

“Fine,” I called back, not taking my eyes off Hendrix. “Just getting Mrs. Percival’s tree ready.”

“I should probably go find him,” Hendrix said, though he didn’t move. “That’s actually why I came by. Wanted to surprise him.”

“He’ll be thrilled to see you.” I meant it. Luca didn’t talk much about his military buddies, but I knew he missed them. “He’s been working too hard lately. Could use a friendly face.”

“What about you?” The question caught me off guard. “Could you use a friendly face?”

I stared at him, my heart doing that fluttering thing again. “I…what do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to be in town until Monday.” He stepped closer. So close that I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “Maybe we could…I don’t know. Get coffee? When you’re not being attacked by evergreens?”

“I’d like that,” I heard myself say. “I’d really like that.”

His smile was slow and devastating. “Good. It’s a date then. Or, you know, coffee. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Hendrix?” Luca’s voice was closer now, and I could hear his footsteps crunching through the lot. “Holy shit, is that really you?”

Hendrix turned toward my brother’s voice, his face lighting up. “Hey there, stranger.”

I watched as they embraced, slapping each other on the back with the casual affection of old friends. They immediately fell into easy conversation, catching up on years of missed time, but I noticed that Hendrix kept glancing my way.

And every time he did, I felt that same little jolt of electricity, the same flutter in my chest.

Mrs. Percival’s tree stood forgotten between us, perfectly netted and ready for pickup.

But somehow, I had a feeling the real work was just beginning.